Most Supreme Act Of Evil
by KanraToshi
Summary: Immorality. Nothing could keep him away. He would kill if he had to. He would be subjected to pain. He would even dabble in the forbidden dark arts. He was going to split his soul and become immortal - and nothing was going to stop him.


**Title: **Most Supreme Act Of Evil

**Author: **Chuchino37

**Series: **Harry Potter

**Pairing: **None. Character focus on Tom Riddle (Voldy)

**Warnings: **Creation of Tom's first Horcrux - death and dark arts

**Rating: **PG

**Summary: **Immorality. Nothing could keep him away. He would kill if he had to. He would be subjected to pain. He would even dabble in the forbidden dark arts. He was going to split his soul and become immortal - and nothing was going to stop him.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter (DUH), and I don't own Tom. I am, however, a total obsessed fan. And guess what? I'm also capable of writing non-romance stuff. I know right? Who would've guessed. ...

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><p><strong>AN: **This is actually my first role-play. It was submitted onto .com for a contest. The task is mentioned below. All ideas from this roleplay belongs to me. Unfortunately, the limit of words was 500-1000. Mines is 1000 perfectly ^^ I actually had a lot more written, but had to cut it down (a lot...and painfully) in order to meet the requirements. The first part you'll read is what the contest gave me, to set the scene. Where the writing begins in Tom's perspective is where I started writing. The rating had to be PG-13 (so, nothing that gruesome, and unfortunately, no yaoi or smut this time). ...I don't think it would've fit...at all. (sweatdrop).

This is also in excitement for the last Harry Potter movie, Deathly Hallows Part 2 (sobs). I'm going to the midnight premiere - not missing it for anything in the world. I'll even have a homemade dark mark ;)

Anyway, enjoy the short role play :3

~o0o~

**THE TASK**  
>Write a roleplay for the next scenario in Tom's perspective. The roleplay must show Tom actually making his horcrux based on the instructions found in Secrets of the Darkest Arts. Because we don't know what the precise instructions are, you get writers freedom to make things up. What were the enchantments, the 'ingredients', the steps, the effects and ramifications of splitting your soul? Be as creative as you like, but remember that this is one of the darkest magic. The instructions are bound to be...wicked.<p>

~o0o~

**MOST SUPREME ACT OF EVIL**

Tom stared down at the lifeless form of the bespectacled girl, her body sprawled awkwardly inside the narrow lavatory stall, remnants of tears in her now-unseeing eyes. After months of planning, of carefully choosing his target, of stalking and waiting for the opportunity to carry out his plans-he had finally done it.

He had taken another person's life. He killed.

The enormity of the crime he just committed hit Tom so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that he staggered a couple of steps backwards, as if physically struck. Intent on justifying the death of the mudblood, he struggled in recalling the great and noble reason that led him to this supreme act of evil. It was hard for he couldn't seem to think; he could only feel. The beating of his heart was so loud it was making his mind numb.

Something heavy slithered on the floor, behind Tom. The basilisk's head loomed above his shoulder, its big yellow eyes surveying the girl's still form. With shaky hand, Tom reached out and patted the snake's head. "Well done," Tom said, a little breathlessly, in parseltongue. He was contemplating about what he should do with Myrtle's body when the voices of girls, growing louder and louder as they neared the bathroom, permeated the hazy state of his mind.

Not wanting to get caught red-handedly, Tom whirled round, looking for an escape. And then he saw the gaping hole on the floor where one of the faucets was supposed to be. "Quick," he told the basilisk, "back to the chamber!"

~o0o~

Tom Riddle sat cross-legged on the smooth marble floor of the Chamber of Secrets, a black leather-bound book in front of him. Engraved on the cover, written in crimson, was ?Secrets of the Darkest Art'. He was looking at the book with reverence for it was, after all, his guide to immortality. Ah yes, immortality. Such sweet words. Such magnificent thing to have. Here, in the chambers of his great ancestor, his priorities came back.

"Kill. Let us kill more." The basilisk hissed behind him, its large head raised ten feet from the polished floor.

"Soon," Tom placated. "For now, you have to content yourself with the death of that Ravenclaw mudblood," Tom's voice held a tone of smugness...and relief. He just ridded the world of one abomination, a mudblood and a weakling who had a penchant for crying her heart out in the seclusion of the lavatories. As far as Tom was concerned, the wizarding world owed him. It was relieving to be back to his cool-headed self again, to have full command of his senses, never mind that his heart was still racing and his breath a bit short and shallow for his liking.

"But first," he procured a rather simple-looking journal and placed it beside the leather-bound book on the floor, "we have to prepare this diary to receive a piece of my soul." Opening the _Secrets of the Darkest Art_ on page 37, he began chanting the words...

~o0o~

My voice rang and echoed off the bathroom walls, a bit breathy but steady. Without blinking, I continued chanting.

"I call upon the power of the soul. I summon the dark magic, of demons past and those to come…"

If I was being honest, I'd admit I was trembling a bit, and it wasn't from the cold or because I just killed. No, I was attempting to do what no student has had the courage to do before. I was gambling my life – for immorality.

I breathed in deep through my nose. _Get a grip on yourself Riddle._ I scolded myself. Messing up here, after this much effort would be a waste.

Finishing the first spell, I slumped down onto the ground. It wasn't like anyone was going to look for me in a girl's bathroom. I chuckled inwardly.

Following the book's writing as best I could (for there were many dark blotches); I saw instructions, along with a warning about the potion only working if you killed. I smirked. They don't call it dark arts for nothing, but I was ready to cross that line. In order to gain anything in this world, you have to be able to sacrifice first.

I reached for my bag. I had a suspicion that potion ingredients were needed. I had to go through the trouble of sneaking around; stealing ingredients students weren't allowed to buy.

I grabbed my cauldron. Placing it gently down onto the bathroom floor, I skimmed the instructions again. It was complicated, but I didn't come all this way to fail. Gingerly, I opened a bottle of finely crushed newt eyes. I knew I would have to drink this potion, and it didn't seem very appealing.

There were no problems up to step 7. The potion required an ingredient that would ensure the protection of the owner when their soul ripped in two. My physical body would be unharmed while my soul changed.

There were no indications or clue written in the margins of the book. Nothing to guide me. I let out a frustrated half-groan, half-growl. The basilisk I forgotten about slithered closer to my voice.

I heard its voice in my head, Parseltongue blending into English.

_Let me help, my lord._ _My sssssskin,_ it explained. _It can protect you. _

Of course. I remember now. Upon many nights of my illegal researching in the Restricted Section, I read about the Basilisk. "The Basilisk skin is armored like that of a dragon's, which deflects spells cast upon it." I murmured; memorized word by word. My mind continued to race ahead.

_The Basilisk sheds its skin at intervals…_

I glanced down the dark hole where the basilisk came out of. The basilisk's head followed mine's, and understanding, it slithered down the hole and reappeared in moments, this time clutching what seemed to be a wrinkled murky green cloth in its teeth, dropped it, and disappeared back into the hole.

Upon close inspection, it turned out to be a layer of skin it shed. I grabbed my scalpel and cut off a piece of dried skin, and added it into the now boiling potion.

Following the next step, I added a few drops of my blood (a cut from my wrist) and stirred the cauldron. It turned a dark green, and wisps of clear green smoke started to rise.

I finished the rest of the instructions quickly. It would be bad if the smoke got out into the hall. People would notice.

Tidying up the leftover ingredients, I turned to the book again. The next steps were to douse the item you wanted your soul to inhabit. I reached for the diary, and turned it over, thumb brushing over the golden words "Vauxhall Road, London". While it was made in the filthy Muggle world, this diary proved I was the heir of Slytherin – a title that was fit for only me.

I held up the stirring ladle gingerly, and slowly poured the mixture over the diary. I half expected it to soak, but the diary stayed dry, with a strange clear outer coating.

I downed what was left of the cauldron, and grimaced. _The dark arts need a sweeter taste_. I thought to myself, and again chuckled at the inappropriate times to make jokes.

Soon, I began to feel tingling in my fingers, which spread upwards to my arms, and throughout my entire body. My heart rate sped up, my muscles convulsing. My breath came out in gasps, my head rolled back to lean against the wall. My hands scrabbled at the floor to hold on to something; my eyes diluted and strained. My mouth opened and closed, but I couldn't form noises, much less words.

The pain – it was too much.

My skin felt like it was on fire. My hair was matted with sweat onto my forehead. I twisted, and flopped to the floor. My eyesight went black – I could see nothing. Everything was gone, the stalls, the sink, that Muggle's unmoving body, the blood spreading. . . . . .

My soul was splitting, being forced to torn apart. And as quickly as it started, it ended.

I panted, and with what little energy I had left, sat up. The diary lay next to me, still dry, with green smoke coming out from it. I looked down at myself. Gashes and cuts littered my skin. I must look horrible.

Then I glanced at the Secrets of the Darkest Arts book, next to my empty cauldron. I looked at the seemingly harmless sink, and then to the corpse.

I packed my things in haste; made sure the sink's entrance was shut, and left the bathroom empty except for that annoying Muggle girl and the sound of the _drip_ from the sink.

I did it. I accomplished what I sought for. My soul – I made my first Horcrux.

And it wasn't going to be my last. _Oh no, _I smiled to myself as I walked. _This is only the beginning. _

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><p><strong>AN: **And that's it folks. :D

My first role play. I had such a hard time to begin writing; I sat around my laptop just typing and deleting the first few sentences over and over again. But once I got started, I couldn't stop.

Harry Potter will always be a part (a HUGE part) of my life. I actually just took my senior photos, and went in using the 7th Harry Potter book as a prop. The guy looked at me and said "I take it you're a big fan." ^^

My collab fic with my friend is still in progress (...I swear I'm still working on it...It's totally not just sitting there...) -_-"

Hehe, it's a Durarara! one - Shizuo x Izaya :D

I also have another Narnia one up my sleeve - the smut and (what little) plot there is goes to Jannasaur ^^

If you want me to write more, be like her and review on my fics - that's the thing that encourages me most to start writing again.

Until then - **PEACE!**


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